Chapter eleven, TRIP
Fall was just beyond the bend now and it was becoming increasingly obvious, from the new chill in the air to the longer nights. This brought light to a new issue that Whitney became infatuated with. Between new supplies and more rice she was realizing that they'd need more supplies soon enough.
And she began to discuss her plan with Wilson in bits and pieces as time passed, the topic becoming more pressing as fall grew closer.
It was safe to say that Wilson wasn't too thrilled with the idea of leaving the safety of the area. The familiarity provided comfort which he didn't want to leave. But when she told him that she was the one leaving, alone, he denied her that. Pleading with her to stay.
But that didn't matter, she was going whether he liked it or not.
She walked into the main room, rucksack slung over one shoulder and flannel tied around her waist. Wilson caught her in his gaze, eyebrows drawing together as she moved, passing him. He began to plead once again.
"You can't go," she scoffed, pushing the door open, "I take this trip every year, man". She looked over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. "Well-" there was uncertainty in his voice, "You don't know if it'll be dangerous!" she met the gate, stopping only to turn around, facing him. There was a lopsided smile on her face, "seriously"? He stopped, swallowing.
"I'm pretty sure I can handle myself, Wilson" he breathed through his nose sharply, frozen as she turned, moving through the gate. Momentarily his eyes flicked down before returning to the back of her head. His throat tightening as he thought for a moment.
"Wait!" she sighed.
They walked, moving through the forest. They were going north, treading to the mountains. The sound of the forest life surrounding the two as she led him further into the woods.
When the wintergreen pines began to thin out and they met the sudden expanse of grassland she made them stop. Her hand pressing to his chest as she stared into the pasture, viewing the herd of beefalo with a soft smile. Wilson's cheeks warmed at the contact yet he looked her down with a questioned expression. Suddenly disappointed when she removed her hand and looked at him, a smile still resting on her face. "Sorry," she looked back at the wild animals, "The tiny little calf from last year is still here" she looked up at him.
Her elbow nudged him, "Proof that nothin's hopeless in the constant!" his lips quirked up, huffing through his nose as she then began to move again. Feet returning to the same pace as before. He easily made his way back beside her. Heat still pooling in his cheeks as they walked, moving through the crowd of peaceful (for now), smelly creatures.
A two days had passed since they began their trip, now the two stood before a graveyard, their first destination just beyond it.
The lake stretched for what must've been at least a mile or so. But here they were parked, stopped before the fog.
"You're not going to defile a grave" her voice was firm but Wilson responded with a hum, tapping his fingers against the stock of the shovel. He cast a pleading look, "It'll help create new things" he offered a smile.
She scoffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I'm not dealing with upsetting a ghost" she sounded exhausted. "Okay," he breathed, dropping his shoulders slightly, "I won't," she looked up at him, "even though we are leaving behind precious resources." he breathed.
"Thank you, hun" he froze up a little, swearing that she flushed lightly before walking through the low mist. He trailed behind her, looking at each passing headstone and what was written on them. Somewhere cryptic, others were odd, the final one they passed had a grocery list on it.
He didn't comment on it, following the younger lady. She removed her shoes and socks and then rolled up the bottom of her jeans before she waded into the water, hands of the loose straps of the rucksack. He stopped at the shore, shoving the shovel into the pebble like sand before moving to take off his own shoes. But, when he looked down he saw a smooth expanse of white just underneath the sand. This caught his attention and he found himself forgetting about ridding himself from his shoes to figure out what this is.
As he brushed the small rocks away he was greeted with the unbroken bone of a skull. A small skull at that. It couldn't have been anything except a child. Carefully he pulled the skull from the ground, fingers curling slightly around the curve of the back. "Whitney-" he looked in her direction before looking back at the skull. He heard her make a noise so he decided to continue. "I'm going to bury this little guy," his eyebrows drew together. "Properly," he muttered softly, standing and drawing the shovel back out of the sand.
He turned back to the grave yard, passing through wisps of white before stopping at the first grave. Digging into the site. When there was a decent sized hole he deposited the skull, placing it into the earth before hopping out of the shallow grave. Hoisting the shovel and beginning to deposit dirt upon the grave. But the sky seemed to darken as he did this, yet he paid no mind. Continuing his mission.
He finished with a sigh, stepping away from the freshly turned dirt. Admiring his actions for a moment before he turned.
The loud boom from above him and the sudden flood of light next to him made him flinch, jumping away as the lightning struck the mound.
His heart thudded against his ribcage as his eyes stared at the dirt. 'That was unusual' he thought, bringing himself to stand again. Brushing off the dirt that had collected on his pants. As he did so, he eyed the space where the lightning struck. His eyes as grey as the clouds above him.
Things are weird in the constant, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was no coincidence about this and that skull. Maybe he should have listened to Whitney and not touch the grave, instead he should've created a new one. Or maybe he shouldn't have messed with the child's skull at all.
Whitney had made her way to him, asking what happened and he explained the situation.
Both of their eyes turned to the mound. Wide and wondering. What was going to happen? Should they flee?
When a hand shot up out of the dirt a blood-curdling shriek left the both of them.